


Gripping you tight

by Kathadrian



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff, M/M, Mention of Character Death, canon AU, idiots pining for each other, spoilers for s05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 14:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/927742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kathadrian/pseuds/Kathadrian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to process it: they stopped the frigging apocalypse and still live to tell the tale. Well, most of them do. But that’s not something he can really think about right now. The very idea has yet to make its way to his brain and he’s dreading the moment it will. Numb feels good right now. He slumps in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, resolutely looking out the window and ignoring the both of them. He’s barely starting to feel things again, but he’s not sure if the relief outweighs the pain, and it’s stupid. What’s one angel against the whole of creation? Hell, what’s one friend against the rest of humanity?</p><p> </p><p>When Castiel comes back from the pit, he's human. Dean doesn't know what his feelings are doing, Sam wants to knock his and Castiel's head together, and Bobby wonders how he ended up living with a bunch of idjits. Confusion all around!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gripping you tight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CumberChameleon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberChameleon/gifts).



> Hey there, first of all, thanks to Becky for making me write this. I'd wanted to write some destiel for ages but somehow never quite worked up the courage. So, yeah, happy birthday even if it is six months late. I really hope you enjoyed it :3
> 
> This is un-beta'd, any remaining mistakes are mine.

The silence in the car is suffocating, or maybe it just feels this way to Dean. He can’t tell. The only noise disturbing the quiet is the slow rumble of Bobby’s engine as his pick-up lunges ever forward. Sam called shotgun and Dean never tried to argue. The backseat is blissfully empty, leaving him some alone time with his thoughts. Now that he can reconsider though, he feels it was a mistake to choose to ride alone. Bobby turns up the radio and sends them both a look as if to make sure they’re okay with it. Sam shrugs and Dean looks out the window. He’s not sure he can really hear anything. He’s still numb from the fight, the adrenaline slowly leaving his body as the weight of what they have just done finally settles.

 

He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to process it: they stopped the frigging apocalypse and still live to tell the tale. Well, most of them do. But that’s not something he can really think about right now. The very idea has yet to make its way to his brain and he’s dreading the moment it will. Numb feels good right now. He slumps in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest, resolutely looking out the window and ignoring the both of them. He’s barely starting to feel things again, but he’s not sure if the relief outweighs the pain, and it’s stupid. What’s one angel against the whole of creation? Hell, what’s one friend against the rest of humanity?

 

Maybe there was some part of him that still believed they could all make it through unscathed. He feels like a royal ass right now. He just wants to find his bed and sleep for two years straight. At the moment, that seems like a good plan.

 

***

 

Dean walks into the living room with a drink in his hands and the room falls silent. Sam bites into his lower lip and Bobby arches an eyebrow. Dean feels very much like telling them to fuck off but restrains himself. They’ve been watching him for weeks now, and Dean definitely doesn’t enjoy their scrutiny. He’s fine, for fuck’s sake! Michael and Lucifer are both rotting in Hell and it’s just fine by him, demons are going scarce and less threatening by the day. They’re left with a few odd hunts here and there, but nothing too troubling. If anything, Dean is bored, but that’s the whole extent of it. He feels like a mental patient, or a young woman made out of glass. Sam constantly has that look in his eyes, like his brother might break at the slightest touch. Dean mostly ignores them.

 

It’s been four weeks since the apocalypse, since Michael and Lucifer took a dive right into the pit, since Cas died protecting the Winchesters. Again. The world feels safer than it ever has and Dean is fine. He is a hundred percent, blissfully okay. He’s frigging delirious. He doesn’t need two old hags watching over him, waiting for him to lose his shit. He’s been dealing with crap like that since before Sam was potty-trained. He can do it again if necessary. The booze is just helping him cope and there’s nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.

 

“Well, ladies, enjoy your teen drama. I’m going to bed,” he announces to the room, walking away before they can answer. It’s not like he cares what they have to say anyway. He can feel them giving each other a _look_ and he walks on, taking the steps two at a time until he’s finally, peacefully alone in his room. This, at least, he knows how to deal with. Dean swallows his drink in one long gulp before putting the glass on the bedside table. His fingers are shaking a little when he starts undressing himself, unfastening the buttons of his shirt one at a time.

 

He bites into his lower lip before ripping them off and throwing the damn thing on the ground. He lets out a sigh and collapses onto the bed, his gaze on the ceiling as the clock chimes. It’s ten o’clock and he’s beat. What the hell happened to him? He’s getting too used to this domestic life and it doesn’t sit right with him. He can hear the muffled voices of the two boys downstairs and tells himself that they’re fine. Safe, or whatever. As safe as they can be. They’re all fine.

 

“Hey there,” he whispers to the empty room, crossing his arms behind his head to make a cushion. He never gets any answer, but it would feel wrong not to try at least.

 

His words echo against the walls, mocking him. “Where are you, man?”

 

Still no answer. Dean grunts and runs a hand over his face. He’s tense, still on his guard as if he expected a demon to burst in any second. Old habits die hard. “I know you’re not dead okay? So you can stop ignoring me, cut the crap out, okay?”

 

It’s not like the dude hasn’t died a few times over already. Hell, Dean wonders if Cas hasn’t died at least as much as he has. He always finds his way back. It’s only a matter of time. Nothing. The silence of the room is oppressing and Dean swallows hard before sitting up. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

 

Dean gets up and takes his pants off, carelessly throwing them next to his shirt. He’ll clean this up tomorrow morning. Right now all he wants to do is lie around for a bit, shut his brain off. And with any luck, he might actually get some shut-eye time too. A guy can hope, right?

 

***

 

“Do you think he’ll be alright?”

 

Bobby grunts in answer before taking a gulp of his scotch. “If alcohol had been our main concern, I’d have got an intervention by now.”

 

Sam doesn’t seem appeased by that answer but has the sense not to show it too clearly. He clears his throat. “We never had to think about it but… things are different, aren’t they?”

 

Bobby doesn’t even dignify that with an answer, only rolls his eyes. He knows what Sam means of course, but the kid apparently needs to spell it out for him.

 

“Dean misses Cas, even if he won’t say it. He’s just too stubborn to admit it.”

 

“That ain’t exactly news, kid.”

 

“Yeah, well, at least I’m trying to come up with a solution.”

 

“Listen up,” Bobby interrupts, his voice as rough as always. “That angel ain’t coming back and Dean’s got to deal with it. Leave him alone, he’ll drink his way through it like any decent Winchester son would.”

 

Sam doesn’t look too happy at the prospect. “You know, for someone who sounds so chill about it, you sure watch over him a lot.”

 

“What are you gonna do? Someone’s gotta look out for you two idjits.”

 

Neither of them mentions the fact that a few months ago, this would have been Castiel’s job. It doesn’t feel quite right and maybe the silence is saying enough. Sam gives a curt nod before finishing up his beer. It’s been a long day. He reminds himself that these things take time; that his brother will get over it someday. That’s as much as he can do right now.

 

***

 

A little over a month later, the three of them are still living at Bobby’s house. Sam enjoys his time-off, even if he doesn’t say it. He always thought he’d try and go back to Stanford if ever given the chance, but he doesn’t even consider it now. Dean’s been taking care of him forever now, and he feels it’s his turn to reciprocate a little, no matter how unwanted his help might be. Besides, he thinks as he watches Dean and Bobby argue over breakfast, they’re family. They’re all they’ve got, and Sam doesn’t want to leave.

 

He tried praying for Cas, but gave up after a month. He understands now that their friend isn’t coming back, he deals with it. They lost many friends along the way, and yes, he mourns, but not as hard as he feels he should. Not as hard as Dean does anyway. He knows his brother well, much more than Dean would be comfortable with he’s sure, and so he can tell that Dean is still upset. He can hear him tossing and turning at night sometimes. He never mentions it. Bobby is probably right, Dean deals with the loss in his own way and he’s not drinking so much now. Not that Sam can see anyway. And that’s good enough for now.

 

He tried talking to Dean about it, once. He’s just considering himself lucky his brother’s aim isn’t what it used to be or he would have been left with a pretty ugly scar. He knows Dean doesn’t do feelings, and that he certainly doesn’t like to talk about them. He just assumed that for once his brother might want to do things like a normal human being. That was his mistake. It won’t happen again. He keeps an eye on him anyway, but even he has to admit: Dean’s doing pretty well. Or he hides the ugliness better than Sam imagined.

 

“What are you staring at?” Dean grumbles around a piece of toast.

 

Sam starts a little and sends him one of his bitch faces – they got him out of a lot of crap when he was little, he just never lost the habit, sue him!

 

“I wasn’t staring, you dick!”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Sam isn’t sure but he thinks he sees Bobby rolling his eyes at him. He shakes his head. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

 

“We’re real glad for you.”

 

Sam does his best to glare at his brother, but Dean doesn’t seem to notice. So Sam just leaves. He doesn’t know what they have planned for the day yet, maybe there’s a hunt somewhere close. He doesn’t feel like driving across country today and even Dean doesn’t seem to be enjoying the rides as much now. It’s just one of those things Sam notices but doesn’t mention. Besides, he knows better than to get involved in his brother’s relation with his car. He wants to help, sure, but he would like to keep his limbs intact, too. Dean can solve it on his own.

 

Dean hears the water being turned on upstairs and rubs his hands together to get rid of the crumbs. Bobby sends him a look but like most other stares Dean’s been on the receiving end of recently, he just ignores it and gets up. That’s when he hears the doorbell ringing. He rolls his eyes. “If this is the sheriff again, I swear to God, I’m booking the church for Sunday morning.”

 

“Like I would let you,” the old man grumbles under his breath before taking a gulp of his morning coffee.

 

Dean can’t help a slight chuckle. “Might want to shave that beard, you know, for the occasion.”

 

Dean opens the door and he’s pretty sure Bobby is swearing like a sailor behind his back, but he can’t hear a word. He feels as if a freaking piano just fell over his head, crushing him to the ground. His lungs stop working; he can’t draw in any air. “Cas?”

 

“Hello, Dean.”

 

And yes, there’s no mistaking that gruff voice of his, deep and gravelly. He looks the same, trench coat and suit intact, eyes still impossibly blue and his hair sticking out at weird angles. It gives him the look of a man who just rolled out of bed. Dean stands there, frozen to the spot. He can’t move an inch, can’t even begin to understand.

 

He blinks for a moment and when he looks up again, Cas’ face is drenched. Bobby is standing right next to him, his usual equipment at the ready. Then, Dean understands that the old man just threw holy water on an angel. He blinks again, berating himself for not having thought of it himself. He knows he should have, but he’s still paralyzed. Bobby runs through their usual tests and as predicted, Cas comes out clean. Castiel is still staring at him, his eyes boring into his, never blinking. Dean swallows hard under the scrutiny and tears his gaze away, his fingers tightening around the edge of the door.

 

“I’ll be damned,” Bobby mutters under his breath as Castiel frowns.

 

Dean is still reeling from the shock of it all, his body barely starting to move again. He feels like his brain just short-circuited and he’s had to reboot the whole system. But when he looks up again, Cas is still just standing there. Just when the angel is about to speak again, Sam jogs down the stairs and comes to an abrupt halt on the ground floor. His hair is still wet, clinging to his skin and falling in front of his eyes. Dean can still see the surprise on his face.

 

“What the fuck?”

 

Dean doesn’t comment, but he thinks that sums it up pretty nicely.

 

***

 

The four of them are in the living room now. Cas took a seat next to Sam, and Bobby took the chair opposite the couch. Dean is still standing, pacing. “Okay,” he says after a while, breaking the silence. “What the hell, dude?”

 

Castiel gives him a small frown, but other than that, he doesn’t move an inch. “I suppose you would all like some kind of explanation.”

 

Bobby’s grunt is enough of an answer so Dean doesn’t bother, but Sam turns to their friend. Dean can practically see the wheels spinning in his head. “What happened, Cas? How are you here?”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Sam,” he answers, taking his eyes off of Dean for the first time. Dean doesn’t admit that he kind of misses it. Cas isn’t his friend if he’s not staring like a creeper. He wisely keeps his mouth shut though.

 

“I… I woke up a few miles away from here. I remembered the house and decided to come and look for you. I don’t remember how I got out, I just… did.”

 

Cas continues before Dean can ask, as if expecting his question. “I didn’t see any bright lights, Dean. I didn’t feel my brothers’ grace surrounding me. I was in Hell, and the next thing I knew I was on Earth.”

 

Dean thinks he can hear a little disappointment in his voice, but he’s probably imagining it. He clears his throat. “So what? If the angels didn’t bring you out, what happened? Did you, I don’t know, _pull_ yourself out?”

 

“I wasn’t strong enough to,” Cas admits as if it physically pains him to do so. Dean can understand. “I have no better explanation for my being here. I am sorry.”

 

“Maybe it’ll come back to you,” Sam says, ever the optimist.

  
Dean doubts it, but once again, refrains from saying so. As usual, it’s up to Bobby to ask the right question.

 

“Well, not that this isn’t charming,” he grunts out. “But what about Michael and Lucifer?”

 

Dean feels he should have asked that first, maybe. He’s not sure anymore. Sam turns to Castiel.

 

“As far as I can tell, they are both still trapped down there.”

 

“Well, that’s… that’s great. Isn’t it?”

 

Dean gives his brother a look before turning to Bobby. The old man is frowning and Dean thinks he understands why. Yes, this is good, a little too good maybe.

 

“They are still my brothers,” Cas says as if that answered everything. Dean still has a lot of questions to ask, but he can’t figure out a way to phrase them.

 

“I just don’t understand,” Sam admits. “Why wouldn’t the angels pull you out of Hell?”

 

“Because they’re dicks,” Dean says, a little too quickly. The three of them turn to him and Dean shrugs. “What? You’re gonna deny it?”

 

Bobby tilts his head a little, obviously agreeing. But Sam is glaring at him and Cas is purposefully looking anywhere but his way. “I think I need some air,” he finally mumbles before rising from the couch.

 

Dean half-expects him to zap himself out of the house, but Cas simply walks to the door. Sam gets up too. “Are you going to be all right, Cas?”

 

Castiel quickly looks over his shoulder and gives him a small smile. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, Sam.”

 

And then he’s gone. Dean frowns before turning to the others. They’re both looking at him like they expect _him_ to do something about it. Cas is obviously _not_ okay, but the guy just asked for some air, which is code one-o-one for _leave me the fuck alone_.

 

“Are you gonna go with him?” Sam asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

 

Bobby is still looking at him and Dean isn’t sure if they’re trying to say that he messed it up, so it should be his problem to solve or if they’re both thinking that Cas is Dean’s angel and so he should deal with him. To be honest, Dean doesn’t want to know.

 

He rolls his eyes and follows Castiel out of the house, if only to get away from the two mother hens in there. Cas is sitting a few feet away in the yard, looking up at the sky. Dean figures he’s probably wondering if he should go back to Heaven now. He hopes he decides not to and tries not to think too much about what an asshole that makes him.

 

Dean walks a little closer and is hit with the realization that Cas doesn’t look exactly like he did before. His features are tense, his skin a little paler maybe, his cheeks hollowed. He’s never looked so small before. Dean is used to seeing him exuding power out of every pore, and this… this doesn’t look quite right. Dean clears his throat and takes a seat next to him. Cas doesn’t move.

 

“Hey, I’m… I’m sorry if what I said upset you or anything.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“Right,” Dean snorts despite himself. This seems to catch Cas’ attention at least. “You don’t look okay to me.”

 

Cas hums in reply. “You forgot one test.”

 

“What?”

 

“Back there, Bobby forgot one test,” he says again. “Do you still have the holy oil I gave you?”

 

“In the trunk of the Impala.”

 

Castiel nods and gets up. Dean follows his lead and frowns as he goes to fetch the oil. When he comes back, Cas is looking down and Dean’s fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle. He’s not sure he wants to do this. He knows what result _that_ test will give, or at least, he thinks he does. He swallows back his questions and draws a circle around Castiel before taking out his lighter. He doesn’t look back up before throwing it on the ground and setting the circle on fire.

 

Cas is looking at him though and Dean feels he ought to look back. Castiel’s expression is determined, his features hard but Dean can see the shudder in his frame as he steps over the line. He feels as if the breath has been knocked out of him. Cas… Cas is not a demon, or a shapeshifter or… or an angel. He’s _human_. Castiel closes his eyes. So, no, he’s not exactly as he was before.

 

Dean knows he should be thinking about the practical side of it all, he knows he should be wondering what the fuck Cas is if not an angel. But all he can see is the way his friend is shivering, his eyes dropping to the ground as if in shame. He looks like he’s just lost his way and can’t quite muster up the courage to ask someone for directions. Dean just stands there. It’s not like there’s anything he can say anyway.

 

***

 

Castiel doesn’t say another word all day, no matter how much Sam tries to engage him in conversation. And no matter how many questions Dean still has for him, he at least has the decency to keep his mouth shut. He obviously doesn’t want to talk and that’s something he can understand, relate to. Bobby just sits there, grumbling at odd times and nursing his beer while Sam punctually starts asking questions. Castiel doesn’t even turn around to the sound of his voice, just keeps staring out the window as if his mojo was on its way back and he just needed to wait for it. Dean just keeps watching him out of the corner of his eye. It’s not exactly like he can help it. Castiel lost his power; he just wants to make sure the guy is not going to do anything stupid. Like run away or try summoning his d-bag brothers.

 

“I will retire for the night,” he finally announces, getting up from his seat.

 

Sam is still staring at him and Dean wants nothing more than to smack him upside the head. He just nods in Cas’ direction and waits until his back is turned to stare at him. At least he’s got _manners_! Bobby agreed to give Cas a room for as long as he needed, and that’s at least something Dean’s grateful for. He wants Cas right there, in case anything happens. That’s the least he can do, right?

 

“So, what was that about?” Sam asks as soon as Castiel’s footsteps vanish upstairs.

 

Bobby rolls his eyes upwards as if talking to them physically pained him. Dean can’t say he really blames him. “What do you want me to say, Sam? The guy’s probably not taking the news so well. You know… his mojo being gone? Being stuck here with no idea how he even got out of Hell?”

 

Sam’s bitchface would be something to witness if Dean hadn’t seen hundreds of them before. As it is, he simply shrugs it off. So what? He’s not allowed to be sarcastic once in a while? It’s been a long day and he’s beat and he sure as hell doesn’t need Sam trying to work out _what it means_ or shit like that. They’ll have time for all the talking tomorrow morning. Right now all he wants to do is go up to his bed and drop unconscious for a few hours. Not that he would admit it to anyone – especially not to his brother – but he does need to think about this whole mess. Sure, he’s happy to have Cas back, he would just rather be sure that it was _Cas_ first. And yet, something is tugging at his heart at the simple notion that Castiel might have changed, that Hell could have actually damaged him. Dean knows what it’s like down there – _he knows_ – but Cas had always seemed so impervious to this kind of stuff. He had never seemed like the type to need protection, and deep down, Dean knows it’s still true. He had just never expected to have to worry about him too. Though, he supposes, he owes him that much at least.

 

Dean shakes the thoughts away and gets up. “I’m done for the day,” he simply announces before leaving the room. He can almost feel Sam’s eyes on his back, his frown, his ill-concealed _concern_. He must assume that Dean’s taking Cas’ return the hardest, but he’s fine. He’s just fine. Honestly, he doesn’t need to be pitied on top of everything else. Not that anything is wrong per say. Damn it.

 

He gets himself up the stairs in a sort of daze, not remembering his steps at all, and when he walks by the door to Cas’ room he barely slows down. He can’t hear anything through the wooden door and so he just goes to his own room. The walls, however, are much thinner and he can hear the sound of rustling on the other side. He can imagine Cas laying onto the bed trying to find a comfortable position. It’s gotta be weird for him and for one second, Dean wonders if he should have talked to Cas about sleeping and how it works. But then he figures Castiel’s been around for millennia and he probably already understands how a lot of things work. It’s a good thing too cause he sure as hell isn’t teaching him how to use a toilet or anything.

 

Dean doesn’t even take the time to change into something more comfortable, his body well-trained to sleeping in pretty much anything anyway. He can remember a time when he would just fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow; it hasn’t been so easy lately though. He just doesn’t tire as easily and so he usually spends an hour tossing and turning until sleep finally claims him. Tonight it’s even worse. He can hear Castiel turning in his bed; he can almost see the look of frustration on his face as sleep doesn’t come right away. Before he realizes it, he’s on his side facing the wall separating their two bedrooms, listening to the sounds the sheets make every time Cas moves. He almost gets up after a while to see if Castiel needs something, just to make sure he’s going to be okay. In the end he doesn’t move an inch and waits until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. When he finally falls asleep, Cas is still tossing and turning on the other side of the wall.

 

***

 

When Dean goes downstairs the next morning everyone is already there. Sam is cooking something – probably eggs and bacon by the smell of it – Bobby is checking the newspaper for a possible hunt and Castiel is just sitting there, completely immovable. The plate in front of him is left untouched, the food obviously growing cold. Sam turns around to greet Dean and notices it too, his brows furrowing.

 

“I’m sorry, Cas, I don’t know what you eat for breakfast. Do you want something else?”

 

Castiel doesn’t even look up and somehow, that annoys Dean. He takes his seat between Bobby and the angel, resting his elbows on the table. Castiel shakes his head but doesn’t answer and Dean turns to Sam. “Is there any left for me?”

 

Sam rolls his eyes before grabbing the frying pan to work on the bacon. Dean’s stomach rumbles as he turns to Castiel and his plate full of bacon. “Dude, you gotta eat something.”

 

Castiel sends him a glare and Dean can’t do anything but raise a curious eyebrow. It’s not the first time Cas is giving him that look, but he never expected it to be over something so insignificant. “I’m not hungry,” he grumbles.

 

Dean just shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says before grabbing a fork and stealing his bacon. Sam sends him a look. “What?” he asks, his mouth still half-full. That sends Sam’s frown into a whole new level, but Dean can’t bring himself to care. “He’s not eating it and I don’t like waste.”

 

“Right,” Sam snorts before taking the pan and dropping two slices of bacon onto Dean’s plate. Castiel is still not looking up and Sam sends him a look so full of concern that even Dean’s getting uncomfortable. He’s just the tiniest bit relieved that look isn’t directed at him for once.

 

“He’s gonna need clothes,” Sam says after a few seconds. And the way he’s looking at Dean answers the question of who would be taking him shopping. Dean swallows his piece of toast and clears his throat when it goes down the wrong pipe.

 

“Why should _I_ take him?”

 

“He’s your damn angel,” Bobby grunts without lowering his newspaper, which makes it that much harder for Dean to glare at him.

 

Dean would like to say that he didn’t blush. Oh, he wishes he could. Sam seems uncomfortable too but that doesn’t keep him from adding to the pile. “He needs clothes, Dean.”

 

“I’m not a child,” Castiel interrupts and Dean had almost forgotten he was even here. “I don’t need clothes, I’ll be just fine.”

 

“You’re not gonna be _fine_ with just one set of clothes,” Dean argues, his tone a little more commanding than he would have liked. But damn it, Castiel is acting like a baby. “You’re gonna have to change at some point!”

 

Dean has a feeling that once, Castiel’s glare could have melted an iceberg. Without his powers though, it’s a little less impressive, and Dean’s got experience dealing with it anyway. He raises an eyebrow as if daring Cas to challenge him but the angel just groans under his breath.

 

Sam clears his throat. “Well, I guess it’s settled then.”

 

“What is?”

 

Dean’s pretty sure he hears Bobby snorts behind his newspaper. “I guess you’re taking your angel shopping.”

 

***

 

Dean doesn’t remember agreeing to this, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s currently behind the wheel of the Impala with a sulking ex-angel in the passenger seat. They’re going to the mall, for fuck’s sake! Dean never thought his life could get any weirder; he was obviously wrong. Castiel is glaring at the radio as if AC/DC had wronged him in some way and Dean bites his tongue to keep from telling him off. Somehow he feels that telling a celestial being to shut his cakehole could get ugly real fast, plus it’s Cas. He figures the guy’s been through enough for one week. He doesn’t turn it off though, but at least he doesn’t sing along.

 

Things have always been a bit awkward between them, especially since Cas came back from Hell, and Dean can’t believe he’s about to make things even weirder now. Sam would laugh his ass off were he to ever find out about this. But damn it, something’s wrong and he needs to get to the bottom of it. He can’t take another day of Cas being so prissy.

 

“How are you doing, Cas?”

 

Castiel slowly turns to him, tilting his head as if Dean were insane. It isn’t nearly as cute as it usually is. And no, Dean definitely doesn’t think of it as _cute_. “I’d think it would be pretty obvious, Dean.”

 

“I guess,” he simply says before looking at the road again. His hands are clenching around the wheel, gripping it harder than necessary. The silence that follows is heavy. God knows Dean isn’t one to talk feelings out, but in this case, he’s willing to make an exception. Well, half-willing really, he still needs to force the words out his mouth. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

 

“And what is there to talk about, Dean?” Cas answers almost immediately, as if he’d been expecting the question. Knowing the angel like he does, Dean figures he probably had, mojo or not.

 

“You tell me.”

 

“I think my _situation_ is quite clear to you.”

 

Dean almost shivers at the way Cas spits the word out, like it burns his tongue. He knows this tone, Hell, he practically invented it. He doesn’t like it, not when it comes from Castiel’s mouth.

 

“Actually, it’s not. If you have any more explanations to give, knock yourself out cause I’m still not getting it. How are you even here? Not that I’m complaining or anything, but how the fuck did you get out of Hell?”

 

Dean doesn’t like mysteries, or surprises. This type of thing doesn’t usually end well for him, and the fact that Castiel doesn’t seem to care bothers him. As far as he can see, someone or something pulled him out of the pit for their own reasons, and he won’t rest easy until he knows what they are. Everything has a price; he knows it all too well. Castiel stares at him for a while, so long that Dean feels the need to look back, but when he does Cas is already looking out the window.

 

He sighs. “Fine, do whatever you want.”

 

His tone is rough and maybe a little… hurt? Not that he would ever admit it, but he never thought Castiel would try hiding things from him. Even in the beginning, Cas may have been a dick and a huge pain in the ass, but he’s never been anything other than brutally honest. He never thought he’d come to miss it. Damn it.

 

“I guess we’re not talking,” he finally says.

 

He thinks he sees Castiel shift in his seat but it’s hard to tell when he’s trying his best to look at the road. Dean turns the volume up, enjoying the way his music fills up the silence of the car. Fine, if Castiel doesn’t want to talk, he sure as hell isn’t making him. That’s his goddamn problem.

 

***

 

“So,” Dean asks as they walk into the first clothes shop he stumbles upon. “What kind of clothes d’you want?”

 

Castiel doesn’t answer him and just lets out a sort of growl. Dean rolls his eyes at him. “What do you want? Jeans? Suits? Sweatpants? A skirt?”

 

At least this time Cas turns to him, and okay, Dean is pretty sure the glare he’s sending him could freeze a roaring fire in under a second. “That’s not funny, Dean.”

 

“If it makes you feel any better, taking you shopping wasn’t exactly my idea of a fun day either,” Dean groans, because honestly, he’s getting a bit sick of Cas being so prissy. He can understand that it’s gotta be tough on him, but he doesn’t need to take it out on him.

 

“You can just take me back home then.”

 

Dean’s heart doesn’t stutter at the mention of home, it definitely doesn’t. He licks his lips and barely refrains from crossing his arms over his chest. He’s pretty sure even Sam wasn’t as much of a pain in the ass when he was a kid. Not that Cas is a child per say, Dean is acutely aware of _that_ , and okay, that train of thought isn’t helping.

 

“I’m not taking you home till we’ve bought something you can wear, wash, and wear again.”

 

Cas is about to retort something when a saleswoman interrupts. Dean is almost grateful for it. “What can I do to help?”

 

Her voice is soft and gentle and anything but sincere. Dean’s spent enough of his life pretending to recognize a commercial smile when he sees one. He forces a smile of his own onto his face. “Well, my… friend here is being a bit difficult, you see.”

 

He can feel Castiel glaring at him but mostly ignores it. “He doesn’t know what he wants exactly.”

 

The woman – Jenny, if her tag name is anything to go by – slowly nods. She turns to Castiel. “Well, it’s okay. Why don’t you come with me and we can start trying some of these on?”

 

She’s pointing to the jeans’ department and Dean almost expects Castiel to try and smite her but his nod is surprisingly gentle, if not completely whole-hearted. He barely has any time to wonder why Cas is so polite with this stranger and yet refuses to be civil to him before the two of them are off. Jenny is asking him questions, offering advice as she points to different models and Dean lets out a sigh. Now that he thinks of it, he’s not so sure leaving Castiel alone with her was such a good idea. He probably isn’t going to start rambling on about demons, angels and Heaven or whatever, but Dean can’t help himself: he follows them. He just stays far enough back that they won’t notice him, but close enough that he can catch a few words out of their conversation.

 

He can hear Castiel mutter, “I don’t know why Dean insists on me buying clothes, I never needed them before.”

 

Dean can see Jenny blushing to the tip of her ears and he does his best to hide between two stacks of shirts. Oh, my God. Yeah, leaving Cas alone with her probably wasn’t such a smart idea, but he can’t exactly interrupt now, can he? At least Castiel isn’t growling at her, Dean is going to count that as a win.

 

“Well,” Jenny stutters out. “Well, okay. We’ll just… choose a pair of pants you can take off without too much bother. Is that all right?”

 

Dean’s pretty sure his face is growing redder by the second now. For the first time in his life, he kind of wishes that the sound of gunfire had rendered him deaf. And yet he can’t stop himself listening in.

 

“I don’t understand. I am perfectly capable of taking my clothes off.”

 

Oh, for the love of God.

 

***

 

In the end they bought Cas a pair of jeans, three shirts and another pair of pants. Jenny either isn’t really good at her job or somehow only chose clothes a little tighter than necessary. Dean fears that mistake was anything but honest and so refrains from commenting on it. It’s not like he didn’t enjoy the view anyway, and if Cas ends up grumbling that his pants don’t fit him, well… at least, _that_ won’t be his fault.

 

For now though the angel is silent. He isn’t even looking at Dean, something the hunter finds a little disturbing considering the number of times he found his friend just standing there, staring at him. But Castiel doesn’t seem so fond of it now and Dean wisely doesn’t comment on _that_ either. He doesn’t miss it exactly, it’s just… odd. And he can’t exactly ask Cas to look at him now, can he? He clears his throat as he turns off the engine.

 

“See,” he grunts. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

 

“I’m not a child, Dean.”

 

Cas’ voice isn’t as aggressive as before, if anything, it sounds a bit weak, defeated. Dean just grabs the door handle and gets out of the Impala. “I know, Cas.”

 

“Then could you stop treating me like one?”

 

“No one is treating you like a kid, Cas. You just… you need time to adjust, okay? And we wanna help.”

 

Cas lets out a sigh before grabbing his bags and striding towards the house. “I know you do.”

 

Somehow he manages to make it sound like a reproach and Dean wants to know what the fuck is up with that, but Cas is already going through the door so Dean lets it go. For now. He’s not like Sam, he doesn’t do feelings, and he doesn’t feel the need to nag someone until they tell him what’s wrong. He’s never been one to do research, he doesn’t like puzzles and shit like that. But Cas… Cas is different, and Dean isn’t so sure he can just let it go. If there’s something bothering him – and he’s pretty damn sure there is – then Dean needs to figure it out.

 

He shakes his head and follows Cas into the house, not in the least surprised to find Sam already on his back to see what they bought. Bobby is ignoring them, as usual and Dean finds some sort of comfort in that. He shrugs off his jacket and steals a glance at Cas and his young brother.

 

“Cas, did you try these on?”

 

Castiel nods. “Jenny said they would help Dean see me in a different light, but I don’t understand what she meant. If Dean has issues with his sight, getting him glasses seems a more effective plan of action, does it not?”

 

Even Bobby turns around at that and Dean’s pretty sure he blushes a little. He’s probably choking on air right now and Sam, that traitor, is smiling behind his hand. Castiel looks lost, which, Dean reminds himself, is absolutely not cute.

 

“Shut up,” he warns and Sam just shrugs, smile still firmly in place.

 

***

 

That night Dean can hear Castiel tossing and turning in his bed, the mattress springs squeaking with his every move. But it isn’t the noise it makes that keeps Dean from dozing off. He debates whether or not he should get up and just get to the bottom of this, once and for all. But in the end, he just presses the side of his face against his pillow and falls into an uneasy sleep.

 

In the morning time, Dean can’t help but notice the bag under Cas’ eyes. He forces himself to ignore it and goes to work on the Impala. At least, this, he knows he can touch without breaking.

 

***

 

There’s nothing wrong with his car per say, but it’s always good to check up on her, make sure everything’s still in place. Besides, working on his car gives him the perfect excuse to have some much-needed time alone. He just needs to not think about Castiel right now, or anyone else for that matter. Cas has been acting weird lately to say the least, and sure, it’s to be expected considering the fact that he just got back from _Hell_ , and came back _human_. But Dean doesn’t want to deal with it, doesn’t even understand why it’s his job to deal with it in the first place. If anything, Sam is more likely to get somewhere with him. They can talk it through or some shit like that, Dean doesn’t know what to do and since Cas so obviously doesn’t want to talk to him, that works out for the best really.

 

And no, he’s not bitter about it. It’s just fine. Not that he cares enough to really think about it.

 

The feel of the wrench in his hand is a comforting weight as the Impala shields him, swallows him. He’s not hiding, not exactly. He just needs some peace and quiet, which is why – because obviously, Dean’s life is just not that easy – Sam interrupts him around lunch time. Dean’s been working on the Impala for four hours straight and yet he feels as if breakfast was just half an hour ago.

 

“Do you want something to eat or are you just gonna hide out here?”

 

Dean doesn’t jump up – which is pretty lucky since he’s currently lying under his baby – but curses nonetheless. He crawls back from under the Impala and glares at his little brother. “I’m not hungry,” he groans.

 

Sam rolls his eyes but Dean can’t be bothered to glare harder. Sam ignores him anyway. “Fine,” he sighs. “You just stay here then. I won’t even bother to cook, Bobby will manage.”

 

The last part is mumbled under his breath but Dean catches it nevertheless. “What about Cas?”

 

Sam half-frowns half-smirks, which makes Dean think that this whole thing was meticulously planned out. Bitch. “He’s not eating.”

 

“So what? You can’t make him?”

 

“No, Dean, I can’t _make_ him. Can _you_?”

 

“Look, he needs to eat,” Dean groans and Sam gives him a look. “It’s bad enough that he’s not-“ Dean interrupts himself, biting on his tongue.

 

At that, Sam actually seems intrigued. Of fucking course. “What? It’s bad enough that he’s not what?”

 

“Nothing,” Dean snaps before getting ready to focus on the Impala again.

 

“Dean,” Sam insists and it sounds like an admonishment. Which, hey, Dean doesn’t appreciate. He’s supposed to be the older brother here. “If you know something, then you should tell us. Has he been acting weird?”

 

“Of course he’s acting weird.”

 

“I mean even weirder?”

 

Dean doesn’t understand why he can’t just tell Sam that Cas isn’t sleeping either. But he just can’t. He knows he should since that kind of information could help Sam figure out what’s going on and help Cas. But Dean doesn’t feel comfortable voicing it. And it seems pretty fucking selfish of him to keep something like that for himself exactly _because_ it could mean Sam helping Cas. For all he talks about leaving his little brother to deal with Castiel, he still thinks the angel is his responsibility. Somehow. And he doesn’t feel right telling this kind of shit to Sam.

 

“He’s just not comfortable, you know. He needs to eat at least, he can’t keep pushing his body like that, that’s all.”

 

Sam doesn’t seem convinced, but after a couple of minutes he just shrugs and leaves. Dean runs a hand through his hair, spreading grease everywhere and gets back to work. He’ll feel better after this.

 

***

 

He doesn’t feel better after it. Not after seven hours spent working on his baby. He still feels like shit, and well if this isn’t just fucking perfect.

 

He comes inside the house to find Sam and Castiel sitting on the couch and watching a movie. Cas looks at peace and Dean has a hard time trying to explain the way his heart pinch at the sight. His face is open, in a way Dean hasn’t seen it in what feels like for fucking ever. Sam bumps their shoulders together and Cas looks up to see Dean. His whole posture changes, his muscles tightening almost instantly as his eyes cloud with guilt. He seems to realize he let his guard down and immediately regrets it. This time, Dean can understand more than well enough why his heart seizes in his chest; somehow, it’s more painful than before. He clears his throat and throws his rag on the table, just to give himself something to do.

 

He thinks he can feel Bobby looking at him from across the room but he doesn’t have the guts to check, he feels uncomfortable enough as it is. Sam is giving him a weird look and Dean is barely resisting the urge to flip him off, hanging onto that last bit of dignity as he leans against the table.

 

“What are you-“

 

“Do you feel-“

 

Cas and Dean speak at the exact same time and Sam – that little shit – apparently finds the whole situation hilarious. He snorts and brushes the hair out of his face, looking between Cas and his brother with insistence. His gaze finally falls on Dean and stays there and Sam raises an eyebrow. Dean glares, unfortunately for him, anger doesn’t seem to help diffuse the tension so he clears his throat again, rubbing a hand over his neck. When he looks up again, he realizes that Cas is looking anywhere but at him, worrying his lip between his teeth and damn it, if this isn’t somehow weird and adorable at the same time. Not that Dean thinks of anything as adorable, or endearing for that matter.

 

“Uh,” he says. “What… What are you watching?”

 

Sam gives Castiel and look and shrugs when he seems to realize that the angel isn’t going to answer. “Friends,” he smirks.

 

“Oh.”

 

And yes, this is all the eloquence that Dean has stored up.

 

“Castiel likes Chandler.”

 

“He seems very funny,” Cas finally pipes up, his voice even rougher than usual, probably from lack of use.

 

Dean shudders but tries a small smile, his eyes resting on Castiel’s face. Somehow it doesn’t surprise him to learn that Cas only _thinks_ Chandler is funny.

 

“I don’t understand most of what he says but he always gets the others to laugh.”

 

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles lightly. “I like Joey better but Chandler is cool.”

 

And yes, Dean likes Friends, because it was one of the only shows they could get when they were staying in their crappy motels and because it used to make Sammy laugh so sue him. He hasn’t seen an episode in years and he kind of misses it.

 

Sam snorts. “Well, you _would_ like Joey.”

 

He manages to make it sound like an insult but Dean barely spares a second to glare his way before moving a little to catch a glance at the tv. It’s on mute now but he thinks he can see Rachel giving a speech or something.

 

“Which one is that?”

 

Sam is smiling now, full of teeth and apparently trying very hard not to laugh. Dean should have seen it coming, really. “The one when Joey and Ross take a nap together.”

 

Dean freezes for a second but when the implication of what Sam said fully sinks in his brother is already watching tv again, pretending to follow the plot even when Dean can tell he’s paying more attention to him and Cas than he is to Phoebe currently tackling Ross to the floor.

 

“Is this something men usually do together?” Castiel asks, somehow managing to make the situation even more uncomfortable. And if Dean wasn’t too busy hitting Sam in his mind he would probably laugh because, well, that’s just like Cas. “I didn’t realize it was a group activity.”

 

“It’s not,” Dean groans and immediately regrets it when he sees Castiel sit back on the couch, inching away.

 

He thinks he might have made a mess of things – again -, of this weird truce they have right now. And he curses himself before Cas speaks up again.

 

“Would you care to join us?”

 

He seems hesitant, probably hoping Dean will refuse. At least, that’s what his brain is telling him and yet Dean takes a second to make up his mind. He lets out a sigh and runs his tongue over his lower lip.

 

“No, thanks,” he finally says. “I gotta go take a shower before dinner.”

 

Castiel nods, polite and composed, before focusing on the screen again. Dean can feel Bobby’s stare burn at the back of his neck and barely refrains from running out of the room.

 

“All right,” Cas whispers after a few seconds.

 

He doesn’t so much as look at him and Dean quietly walks out, wondering if he hasn’t indeed managed to fuck things up even more.

 

***

 

They have a quiet dinner that night and Dean even catches Cas eating some of it. He’s pulling a face the whole way through but at least he’s eating and so Dean doesn’t complain. Sam even looks a little proud of himself for managing to cook something Cas actually deems good enough to swallow, and it’s somewhat peaceful. It’s a relief, frankly.

 

Dean thinks things are going pretty well, which is why he chooses to go to bed early, for fear of ruining them again. Because he’s pretty beat. And because some part of him wonders if Cas wouldn’t rather spend time with Sam than him. And he knows he’s being ridiculous, but at least he’s being ridiculous inside his own head, and he figures that’s already something. Castiel bids him good night and Sam lets out a sigh so loud Dean’s pretty sure the neighbors hear it. Dean just gets upstairs and collapses onto the sheets, falling asleep with ease for the first time in weeks.

 

He wakes up a few hours later, his legs chafing against his jeans and he gets up to undress. He’s down to his boxer shorts and a T-shirt when he hears Castiel going to bed in the room next to his. He just goes back to sleep.

 

When Dean wakes up again, it’s still dark outside and he just lies there, trying to figure what woke him up. His instincts aren’t quite what they used to be because it takes him a little under a minute to realize that Castiel is making noise on the other side of the wall. And it’s not the mattress springs either, the sounds are clearly coming out of Castiel’s mouth. He’s tossing in his bed, moaning, his breathing harsh and so loud even Dean can pick up on it.

 

He’s out of bed before he’s even fully aware of it, grabbing the jeans he’d thrown onto the floor earlier that night and putting them on before heading for Cas’ room. He doesn’t bother knocking on the door, aware of the fact that if Castiel is having a nightmare – as he supposes he is – then the knock won’t be enough to wake him up. Castiel is shivering by the time he gets there, hands clenched around his pillow and a grimace on his face. He’s sweating, his T-shirt soaked almost all the way to his hips and Dean rushes to his side. He’s working on auto-pilot, grabbing for his shoulder and shaking it roughly.

 

“Cas!” he whispers loud enough for only Castiel to hear. “Hey, Cas! Wake up!”

 

Cas jerks under his hand and his eyes fly open. He takes in his surroundings, Dean’s face, the walls of the room and yet doesn’t seem to be fully conscious of the fact that he’s no longer dreaming. Dean leaves his hand clenched around his shoulder – to keep him grounded he tells himself – with a look of concern on his face.

 

“Hey, it’s okay. You were just dreaming, it’s fine now.”

 

Castiel takes a deep breath and stops shaking almost altogether. “I know that, Dean,” he snaps.

 

Castiel brings the sheets onto his lap and Dean gets his hand back. He refuses to leave though and even takes a seat on the mattress. Close enough that Cas can’t just push him off, but far enough away that they’re not touching. In any other situation, Dean would have been angry at the way Cas spoke to him, but it’s Cas and damn it, Dean can’t take it anymore. He’s tried talking to him, he’s tried giving him space, he’s tried leaving Sam to handle it. Nothing’s working and he’s pretty freaking tired of it. He doesn’t let his own irritation show on his face as he looks up.

 

“Cas,” he begins but his friend interrupts him.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “I’m sorry I woke you. You can go back to bed now.”

 

“Well, tough, cause we are talking about this, Cas,” Dean insists. “We can do it right now or we can do it tomorrow morning when you’ll have to deal with Sam’s sympathy. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

 

Castiel remains silent, doesn’t even move or flinch and somehow, that doesn’t help Dean calm down.

 

“Now you listen to me, Cas. I’m tired of pretending nothing’s going on, and I’m really tired of you pretending you’re doing just fine. You’re not, okay?”

 

“I am.”

 

“Cut the crap! You haven’t slept in days, Cas!” Dean erupts, wincing when he realizes just how loud he got. He listens for any noise indicating that Sammy or Bobby woke up, but apparently luck is on his side tonight. He decides to see this as an excuse to push it a little bit further. “I know, all right? I can hear you through the wall. You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping. I don’t know if you’re in denial or something or if you just like hurting yourself, but it’s getting ridiculous!”

 

When Cas finally looks up, his face is firm, his eyes cold and Dean feels a shiver run down his spine. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Dean.”

 

And really, Dean thinks he’s doing a huge effort there not giving up and telling him he can shove his feelings up his ass for all he cares. Except he _does_ care. And that’s probably the only reason he bites on his tongue and swallows the words back. He lets out a sigh.

 

“I’m giving it anyway, Cas. Because that’s what friends do.” Castiel actually seems shocked to hear him saying that and Dean does his best not to appear insulted. “When you thought I was making a mistake or when you thought I was being an ass, you didn’t hesitate to tell me. Now I’m doing the same.”

 

He laughs a little but it’s a miserable sound, too weak to even be considered a proper chuckle. “Actually, you were pretty damn honest about it, I don’t think I ever saw you so angry. At least I’m trying to be… well, gentle.”

 

Sweet Lord, that isn’t a word Dean ever thought he’d say to Cas’ face, but it has the merit of making Cas’ face soften a little so Dean figures it was worth it. At least a tad.

 

“This isn’t the same,” Castiel whispers after a few moments of silence. “You were sacrificing yourself and risking this planet’s fate. It was my duty to stop you.”

 

“If I remember correctly, your _duty_ was to let me say yes to Michael.”

 

“You would have died in the process, Dean,” Castiel objects and he’s getting worked up again, except this time his anger doesn’t seem to be directed at him. That’s a nice change of pace.

 

“And you’re slowly killing yourself right now,” Dean answers, working past the lump in his throat at the very idea. Castiel obviously isn’t convinced and Dean sighs heavily, his shoulders dropping in resignation. “Look, I’ll even make burgers tomorrow if that’ll get you to eat something.”

 

Cas actually cracks a smile at that and Dean thinks it’s the most beautiful he’s ever seen. “Alright.”

 

His voice is so soft Dean isn’t sure he hears it right, but he’s not cruel enough to ask him to say it again. He can live with the doubt. They stay there until it’s almost uncomfortable and really, Dean thinks it should be – especially considering what he’s about to say – but somehow… it isn’t. He takes a deep breath, looking away but getting a little closer to make sure Cas doesn’t think he’s trying to leave.

 

“I had nightmares for months after I got out of Hell, you know,” he admits. And if his voice cracks a little at the end of the sentence, well Cas doesn’t complain. “I woke up Sammy once, I was screaming…”

 

Dean hasn’t told anyone this before and he never thought he would. But it seems fitting that Cas is the one who gets to hear it, he’s the exception to a lot of Dean’s rules anyway. What’s one more, right? He can feel bile rising at the back of his throat and swallows it down, barely wincing as memories from Hell resurface. He carefully avoids thinking about it, repressing it as much as he can because it would weaken him. But he’s safe now, he tells himself, or at least as safe as he’s gonna get. And Sammy can’t judge him, can’t pity him, can’t look at him like he’s broken, like he lost a piece of himself. And Dean finds it’s a lot easier that way. He avoids Cas’ gaze anyway because he knows that as soon as he looks into these eyes, he’ll lose himself. And damn it, he needs to get this out, for Cas’ sake as much as his own.

 

“Anyway, after that I stopped sleeping altogether… it just seemed easier. And then I started getting the nightmares when I was half-awake, whenever I wasn’t a hundred percent focused, and then I couldn’t focus at all.”

 

Castiel reaches his hand out as if to hold on to Dean’s wrist but looks like he thinks better of it and aborts the movement half-way through, letting his hand fall onto the mattress. Dean isn’t sure if he’s more relieved or disappointed.

 

“What I’m trying to say here, Cas, is that… humans get nightmares, Sammy used to get them all the time and it’s not…” Dean can’t believe how hard it is to get it out. He’s stumbling on every damn word. “It’s not something to be ashamed of.”

 

Castiel has remained silent up until this point – something for which Dean is eternally grateful – but right now he kind of wishes Cas would just _say_ something. Anything. Cas seems to feel it and shifts a little on the bed. He doesn’t acknowledge his confession and Dean thinks that’s one of the reasons he loves Cas. Sam would probably add to the pile to drive the point home but Cas can understand that Dean wants nothing more than to talk about something else. They understood each other and that’s enough.

 

“But I’m not human, Dean, at least… I’m not supposed to be,” he says. “And I don’t think I want to be.”

 

Dean raises his chin to give Castiel’s face a proper look and is half-surprised to see that if he’s taking this seriously, he doesn’t have that air of quiet desperation anymore. He doesn’t look angry or self-destructive or about to fall apart. And that, he thinks, makes this whole mess worth it. He knows Cas isn’t okay, he’s not even sure he can be and Dean sure as hell can’t _fix_ him. But he doesn’t feel like he’s talking to a wall anymore and that’s what he could call progress.

 

And of course, Cas has shit he needs to deal with. He needs to accept the fact that his mojo is gone, that he’s not what he used to be and damn it, Dean can imagine it’s not a piece of cake. He probably isn’t getting his halo anytime soon either, not until they know who or what pulled him out of Hell, and if Cas is obviously not okay with it, Dean can’t help but think it’s for the best anyway. Even if that makes him the biggest asshole friend this earth has ever seen.

 

Right now isn’t the time to talk about this though, and Dean thinks Cas is about as tired of _talking_ as he is, so he just nods as if he understood. Castiel can probably tell he’s lost but he seems to appreciate the effort at least. Their gaze lock for a moment and Dean knows he doesn’t have to say anything more, the conversation isn’t over, it’s just put on hold. Dean instinctively reaches for Cas’ hand and grips it in his, squeezing it once before letting go.

 

“Good night, Cas,” he says as he gets up. “Try to get some sleep.”

 

Castiel’s voice follows him to his room. “Good night, Dean.”

 

Dean waits until Cas has stopped moving in his bed to fall asleep, and when he does, he doesn’t wake up until morning.

 

***

 

The next day, Dean makes good on his promise and cooks burgers. Cas eats one and Sam instantly stops glaring at Dean, his face beaming with pride. Dean pretends he doesn’t see it.

 

And sure he feels a bit odd looking Cas in the eye after last night, and he knows he should feel embarrassed as fuck about what he said, what he confessed to, but he takes one look at Cas’ easy smile and it doesn’t seem so bad anymore. He might even do it again if it makes everything easier on his friend.

 

***

 

It’s another week before Cas comes to Dean this time. They haven’t really talked since the other night and Dean should feel pretty relieved about that, except he doesn’t. Not at all. It’s a weird feeling, having to worry about someone else than Sam but it isn’t something he can just shake off either. He’s sitting on the front porch one afternoon, sipping on a beer when Castiel joins him and it’s all he can do not to let his relief show too much.

 

Castiel seems hesitant for a second and Dean doesn’t dare move an inch, for fearing of scaring him away. He knows he’s treating him like a wild animal but considering the way Cas has been acting recently, he can’t bring himself to feel too bad about that. Eventually Castiel stops fidgeting and takes a seat in the chair next to Dean’s, looking straight ahead. Even after millennia spent watching this world, he doesn’t seem to be tired of looking at it. Dean hasn’t really looked at anything in years, never had the time or the desire to. But when Cas just stands there sometimes and looks, Dean thinks he can see the appeal.

 

This time though he can tell Cas is only pretending, his focus is elsewhere and Dean can venture a guess as to where it is.

 

“Feeling better?” he asks with all the nonchalance he doesn’t feel, taking a sip of his beer and not once looking at his friend.

 

“I am,” Cas answers and Dean thinks he can hear a ‘thank you’ there somewhere. It might just be wishful thinking though.

 

“Well everything’s a lot easier to deal with on a full stomach.”

 

He smiles around the neck of his bottle, exceptionally aware of the way Cas finally turns to him, is watching him, the line between his eyes furrowing just a little. He doesn’t have to look to tell that his friend is half-frowning half-glaring, but he relaxes soon enough.

 

“It is very funny, Dean.”

 

“Well, I’m a hoot, whatcha gonna do?”

 

Cas remains silent after that, seemingly content to let the quiet wash over them for a bit. And it feels weird because Dean and Cas have never just sat there, doing nothing, not speaking. They’ve always had shit to deal with, Heaven, Hell, monsters or Sam getting in the way. And Dean realizes that they’ve never actually talked about anything, not until last week anyway. He stretches out his legs in front of him, feigning a carelessness he doesn’t feel and hoping Cas isn’t good enough at reading people yet to notice.

 

“Dean,” he says after a while, clearing his throat when his voice comes out impossibly deeper than normal. “I wanted to thank you for the-“

 

“Hey,” he interrupts, turning to actually look at Castiel and somewhat surprised to find him looking back. He swallows hard before giving him a cheeky smile. “No need for all that, okay?”

 

Castiel frowns. “Of course I need to thank you, Dean.”

 

Dean’s smile dies down on his lips, his lips and throat feel dry as a desert and he has a hard time swallowing. He can’t look away now, the intensity in Castiel’s eyes pinning him down and leaving him completely stuck, his brain short-circuiting. He can’t remember the last time anyone actually thanked him – other than Sam that is. He feels like he should be blushing or something, but he’s still to numb to tell if he actually is or not. He clears his throat and nods before forcing his gaze away, feeling a shiver run down his arms.

 

He carefully avoids Castiel’s eyes after that. Looking out at the junkyard ahead seems like a safer plan. “No biggie,” he says.

 

And thankfully, Castiel seems to think this is enough of it for now. He nods to himself and goes quiet for a while. Dean is about finished with his beer and debating whether or not he should go back in when Cas speaks again, his voice small. “I don’t want to be human, Dean.”

 

Dean knows this is serious, of course he does, which is why he can’t help himself. He doesn’t deal with this kind of tension well. “I can’t say I blame you, but from what I’ve heard being an Angel wasn’t a walk in the park either. At least now you have a family.”

 

“I had a family.”

 

“Yeah talk about a family, a bunch of douche bags. I know family’s supposed to let you down but they took it a bit far.”

 

Castiel is glaring at his temple now. “And what if you could exchange Sam for _better_ relatives, as you say. Would you?”

 

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Dean answers instinctively, looking back at Cas and regretting it when he sees his eyes have gone cold.

 

“Then you have no right to judge my family.”

 

Silence falls again after that and Dean lets out a sigh. He rubs at the back of his neck and almost wishes Sam was here to diffuse the tension or say something smart. But he knows his brother would be glaring at him right now so he figures it’s not worth the ache. “What do you want me to say, Cas? That being human sucks?”

 

Cas shakes his head. “This is my punishment, Dean.”

 

Dean has a feeling Castiel isn’t done, that he has something to say, something he’s been holding onto and that Dean should have known from the beginning. He’s not entirely wrong.

 

“This is my father punishing me. I betrayed him.”

 

“What? You think God pulled you out of Hell just so he could teach you a lesson?”

 

“Isn’t that what fathers do?”

 

Dean thinks about it for a second and realizes that Cas may have a point. It certainly sounds like something his dad could have done. But then, he isn’t sure John was what most people would call a father. Then again, neither is God.

 

“I lost my faith, I allowed humans to steer me away from the path he had laid down for me. I loved humanity too much, Dean. That was my crime.”

 

“Hold up,” Dean interrupts. “What makes you think one of your brothers didn’t pull you out?”

 

Cas actually lets out a laugh at that, and it’s such a miserable, pitiful sound that Dean cringes. “Who would? My brothers and sisters think I betrayed them, and they are right.”

 

Dean refrains himself from adding to the pile with another douche bag remark, but it’s a close thing. He leans out of his chair, his elbows resting on his thighs and wishing Cas would just look at him, damn it. But Castiel is purposefully looking away.

 

“Cas, listen to me,” he says. “You did what you thought was the right thing. Look at me.”

 

Castiel turns around and Dean pretends he can’t see how hurt he looks, how deep the scar runs. It’s clear for him to see and it kills him a little, but he doesn’t let it show. “Now look around, really look. This is what you did, for us, for us all, man. This wouldn’t be here but for you. Hell, _I_ wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, I’d probably still be hanging in Michael’s closet and God knows what would have happened to Sam.”

 

His voice breaks a little at the mention of his little brother and Cas is gracious enough not to mention it. He doesn’t look much better anyway. Dean shakes his head, “For God’s sake, I should be thanking you.”

 

“You never have to thank me, Dean.”

 

Dean actually chuckles at that,” Well, now you’re not being fair.”

 

Cas smiles and it’s still a little forced, a little worn around the edges and Dean hasn’t seen anything so beautiful all day. He swallows hard and looks away again. “So… you’re saying that my Grace was the price I had to pay for you and Sam?”

 

And damn it Dean had never thought of it that way. Castiel did more than save the both of us, after all. “If I said it was, would you think it was worth it then? Would it make it easier to accept?”

 

Cas frowns for a second but when he looks back at Dean, his expression is set, firm. “I think it would.”

 

Dean feels as if the breath’s been knocked out of him. He can’t even begin to encompass the enormity of what Cas has said, can’t begin to understand, never mind express, the way his stomach flips. So he just nods and hopes Cas understands. Judging by the look on his face, he does.

 

***

 

The next time Cas has a nightmare Dean is out of bed before he even has to think of it. He stays by Castiel’s bed until he falls back asleep.

 

It becomes somewhat of a routine. Dean sleeps with one eye open, waking up at the slightest sound coming from Cas’ room which means he loses a few hours of sleep a night. He feels better, he feels useful, needed. And if Cas needs someone to take care of him, it seems only natural that Dean be the one at his side.

 

A week later Dean ends up staying the night in Cas’ room, sleeping in the chair by his bed. Neither of them mentions it and if Dean’s neck is a little sore the next morning, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal.

 

***

 

Castiel knows he should have expected it, and yet it still comes as a surprise. Dean is off in his room, packing and Sam is just sitting on the couch with his suitcase ready. He looks up when he hears Cas coming in and rises. “Oh, hey!”

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“Well, Bobby got a call last night. Apparently there’s a hunt two states over and they need a little help.”

 

“Oh,” is all Castiel says for a few seconds. He can hear Dean coming down the stairs and turns to Sam. “I’ll come with you. I might be able to help.”

 

Sam looks uncomfortable for a moment, his hands twitching at his sides and Cas frowns. Dean walks up behind him and taps on his shoulder. “Sorry I forgot to tell you. We’re going on a hunt; it’ll probably take us a few days.”

 

“Sam told me,” he says, turning around to face Dean. “And I’m coming with you.”

 

“No, you’re not.”

 

Sam clears his throat and leaves the room with all the grace of a moose in a china shop.

 

“What do you mean I’m not coming? It’s my decision.”

 

Dean sighs and lets his bag fall onto the floor. “Look, Cas, this is a weird one. We’re not even sure we’ve ever dealt with something like this before.”

 

“Exactly! I could help, Dean.”

 

“Cas, you’re not ready.”

 

“I have hunted before, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, but not when you were… I mean you don’t have…”

 

Pride is something Cas understands very well, it is after all something angels are quite familiar with. And right now he feels like Dean is walking all over his. He doesn’t appreciate it, to say the least.

 

“My Grace isn’t my only gift.”

 

“That’s not what I said.”

 

Castiel is pretty sure his glare alone used to smite people, as it is now it barely even makes Dean shift. And if it isn’t just the most frustrating feeling in the world. Sam walks back into the living room to grab his bag and goes to stand awkwardly at the door. Dean looks relieved only because he thinks Cas wouldn’t dare say anything in front of him. He’s wrong. But Cas is too angry to make a good case and Dean is nothing if not stubborn. Castiel can remember a time when he thought this was a quality, it’s hard to tell why right now though.

 

“Fine,” he simply says, his voice cold enough to freeze Hell over.

 

He doesn’t need to say that their conversation isn’t over, Dean looks well enough aware of that by himself. He rolls his eyes and grabs his bag before joining Sam.

 

“We’ll see you in a couple of days, Cas.”

 

Castiel walks away without a second glance. “Good luck, Sam,” he says and then they’re gone.

 

Dean is in a bad mood for the whole drive and barely even growls at Sam when his brother tries to engage him in conversation. For some reason, that makes the little bastard smile even wider. Whatever.

 

***

 

Three days later Sam and Dean aren’t back yet and Cas is growing exponentially agitated. The frustration he felt turned into anger, and then when it died down, he was left with a troubling feeling of… dread? He’s not quite sure how he should call it, after all, the years he lived – though they were many – didn’t teach him how to identify the way he felt, or to feel at all for that matter. And so he’s a little lost when he wakes up on day three with a knot in his stomach and the sudden urge to reach for his Grace to find the Winchester brothers.

 

He’s never regretted the loss of his powers as much as he does now.

 

He pulls on a sweater and goes downstairs, nearly running into Bobby on his way to the kitchen. Bobby just growls at him but it has no heat in it and goes back to his favorite chair in the living room. Castiel smiles despite himself and takes a step towards the kitchen, but just the thought of food is enough to make him feel sick right now. He gives up on breakfast and lingers in the hallway for a few minutes before swallowing his pride and joining Bobby.

 

“Just spit it out already,” Bobby grumbles before Cas even sets foot in the living room.

 

And okay, that’s weird but Cas is beyond the point of caring. He needs to ask Bobby something, and embarrassing as that may be, he’s going to get it out. He lets out a sigh and steals a glance at the sofa, finally opting for standing. It seems less awkward, somehow.

 

“They think I’m useless, don’t they?”

 

Bobby mumbles something under his breath but Cas only understands a word, and that word, surprisingly enough, sounds a lot like idjits. He thinks a little bitterly that Dean or Sam would have understood; after years of acquaintance, they were very well versed in Bobby’s dialect. Cas had no such luck.

 

“You ain’t useless,” he grumbles after a while, grabbing a bottle and filling half a glass of whiskey. “And those boys sure has hell don’t think so.”

 

“ _Sam_ doesn’t.”

 

Boddy rolls his eyes so hard it almost hurts Cas.

 

“Boy, you’re harder to deal with than most demons I ever met.”

 

Castiel pinches his lips, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Dean don’t think you can’t fight, dumbass,” Bobby half sighs half groans. “He’s just protective by nature. I thought you’d have got used to it by now.”

 

Castiel catches his lower lip between his teeth, pacing a little without even realizing it. “He _is_ very protective of Sam.”

 

“For the love of… Dean is an older brother. He’s protective of everyone he’s close to.”

 

It takes a couple of seconds for Cas to understand what Bobby meant, but when he does, he’s no closer to giving a proper answer. “Oh,” he simply says, and that’s that.

 

They don’t talk after that and Cas eventually takes a seat, twisting his fingers to keep himself busy. His mind is reeling with everything Bobby said, processing, analyzing and finally… coming to a conclusion. Well, at least he thinks he’s come to a conclusion; he’s not certain what he’s supposed to do with it though. Humans are complicated being, he finds, and Dean even more so than most. Even after the years he’s spent with the Winchester boys, he finds he never got closer to figuring out their language, to understanding what drives them. Now though, he thinks he can catch of glimpse of something he had never really paid attention to. And he doesn’t know if he should feel warmed at the idea or confused by what it means.

 

In the end Castiel doesn’t decide. He figures it doesn’t serve any purpose to over think it and turns to Bobby with a small frown on his face.

 

“Where do you keep your guns?”

 

The look of pure surprise on his face is something Cas enjoys. At least a little bit.

 

The next day, Castiel goes out the backyard with a bag full of empty alcohol bottles – something he doesn’t care to dwell on. He aligns them on the roof of a beat up car and goes to stand a respectable distance away. The gun feels foreign in his hand, unfamiliar. He hasn’t needed to use one in centuries, but he did learn out to shoot. He takes a breath and aims.

 

After two hours of training, Cas feels pretty satisfied. He did shoot a lot of car windows – most of which didn’t even belong to the car he had put the bottles on – but by the end of it, he feels confident that learning again won’t be too difficult. He managed to hit two bottles out of six. He deems it respectable enough and goes back inside the house. Bobby doesn’t even look at him when he goes upstairs with the gun. Castiel thinks he approves, but he doesn’t comment on it.

 

***

 

It’s only two days later that Sam and Dean come back. And to say that they’re not in great shape is probably the understatement of the decade. They come back in the middle of the night, stumbling through the door and startling Cas awake almost immediately. He hears Dean grunt downstairs and is out of bed before he can even think, rushing through the door as Bobby grumbles in his room. He’s downstairs ten seconds after Cas though.

 

The sight greeting them isn’t a very pretty one. Sam’s cheek is an angry shade of red, his right eye almost completely black by now. His hair is a mess and there is a suspicious red stain on his shirt, somewhere a little beneath his stomach. Cas is pretty sure the dark spot on his jean isn’t a simple soda stain either.

 

Compared to his little brother, Dean looks almost fine. He has bags under his eyes and a cut on his cheekbone. His hair is spiking out at odd angles and Cas can see him limping under Sam’s weight. Other than that, he doesn’t seem injured; at least Castiel can’t see much blood. But then again, he knows Dean has a knack for hiding injuries, emotional or otherwise.

 

Castiel wants to ask what happened but Bobby interrupts him before he can even get a word out. He is grateful for it in the end.

 

“All right, no time for the story. Hand me Sam.”

 

Sam makes a face at being treated like an object but Dean doesn’t waste a second, leading his little brother over to Bobby and making sure the old man can support his weight before letting go. Bobby gets him to the couch and goes to fetch an emergency kit he hid under the counter in the kitchen. Dean is looking at Sam with a frown on his face and for once, Cas understands that expression he wears so often: guilt. His stomach churns a little and he turns away, unable to witness it any longer. He swallows hard and grabs Dean lightly by the arm.

 

“You need to clean this up,” he says, just loud enough for Dean to hear.

 

Dean’s eyes cast down for a second, looking at Cas’ fingers wrapped around his arm, but other than that he makes no effort to move. Castiel tightens his grip a little. “He’ll be fine,” he whispers.

 

Sam grunts at Bobby, asking him if he needs to be so rough cleaning his wound and Dean seems to think it’s a good sign because he looks back at Cas and nods. Castiel lets go and takes the stairs, never looking back because he can hear Dean’s footsteps behind him. He lets his friend enter the bathroom and follows him suit, fumbling through the cabinets for cotton and disinfectant. Once he turns back, Dean sits on the edge of the tub and Cas decides to imitate him to even out the heights. It’ll just be easier that way, he reasons. He sets the disinfectant in the sink and rips off a bit of cotton. Dean is looking at him as he prepares and Cas fights down a small smile.

 

“Do you want to tell me what happened, Dean?” he says, more to distract himself than because of any real need to know.

 

Dean shrugs and Cas gently takes his head between his fingers, brushing his cheek to hold him in place.

 

“It was my fault,” he says as Castiel starts rubbing around the wound on his cheekbone. “It should have been easy enough to deal with but, uh… I was distracted.”

 

Cas’ face remains impassive through all this and yet, he can feel his heart beating, jumping in his chest as if it was trying to leap out of it. It’s distracting and he has to bite his lip to stay focused. The movement draws Dean’s eyes down and Cas swallows hard. “Okay”, he breathes, knowing that if Dean wants to say more, he will, but confident enough that pushing him won’t do any good.

 

Dean scratches his thigh over his jean and shifts a little bit, pressing his cut against the cotton, wincing a little.

 

“Does it hurt?” Cas asks.

 

“Not really.”

 

Cas lets out a small laugh, almost too quiet to hear. Not that it should matter, he’s almost certain that Dean could feel it against his skin. It’s odd being so close to Dean, his task seems almost intimate and yet it should be clinical. It should be easy, simple, in a way Cas hasn’t felt in a very long time. He finds he doesn’t mind the flutter of his heart as much as he thought he would.

 

Cas is almost done cleaning the first wound when Dean clears his throat. “You’re not bad at this,” he says, voice rough from lack of use and Cas feels a shiver run down his spine. He’s pretty sure Dean can feel his fingers shake a little, but if he does, he makes no mention of it.

 

“I have some experience dealing with injuries, Dean,” he sighs. “As have I with most things.”

 

Dean bites his lip and Cas can feel his breath against his palm for a split second before Dean turns away. Castiel’s hand feels cold but he tries not to show his disappointment too much.

 

“I know, Cas. You know… before? I mean, before we left…”

 

“I know,” he answers, voice soft. “I don’t blame you, Dean.”

 

“Well, maybe you should. We could have used another pair of hands out there.”

 

Cas knows Dean doesn’t ask for help – or even admits to needing it – lightly or easily, which is the only reason to explain the sudden warmth cursing through his vein and hitting somewhere deep inside his chest he hasn’t felt stir in centuries. He swallows past the lump in his throat and feigns nonchalance – something he learned from the boys. “I will be there next time, if you want me to.”

 

“Yeah, that… That would be cool, I guess.”

 

Cas gives him a small nod. “All right, now let me look at your lip.”

 

Dean blinks and then seems to remember that he has a split lip, a small cut on the side of it. He shifts a little closer and Cas takes his head in his hand again, running his thumb over the cut to see if it hurts. Dean doesn’t so much as flinch, but Cas suspects it must be hard to feel the sting when his eyes are so focused on Castiel’s own mouth. He’s looking at him differently somehow, with a spark Cas doesn’t quite know how to interpret and thus ignores. For now. He has a feeling he’ll be dreaming of that look when he goes back to sleep later tonight.

 

“Tell me if it hurts, Dean.”

 

Dean gives an imperceptible nod and Cas pushes the cotton against the cut, making Dean shiver a little. It’s almost too soft to notice but with his fingers pressed against his cheek, Castiel does.

 

Castiel thinks the room has grown hotter by five degrees after he’s done, but then again, maybe it’s just him. By the way Dean is looking at him though, he thinks he isn’t the only one suffering from this predicament. He lets the piece of cotton slide against Dean’s skin as he runs his thumb over his lip, pretending to tilt his head to get a better view. He does have a better view though, from this angle, all he can see is Dean’s lips, pink and wet from the flick of his tongue seconds earlier.

 

When he finally looks up from the inviting sight, it’s to find one even more so. Dean is looking at him, his gaze a little fogged, his pupils dilated to almost twice their size and Cas feels as if someone punched him in the solar plexus. All the air has been knocked out of him and his lips part instinctively, desperately trying to get some more in. Dean’s eyes flicker to his lips and Cas tightens his hold on his friend’s cheek, careful to avoid the cut on his cheekbone.

 

His throat is impossibly dry and even swallowing hurts now. He thinks for the first time in his life, that he is experiencing something he only read about in books. Something other angels found in Heaven and something he had never thought he would be yearning for. And yet now it seems inescapable, like he’s grabbing at a branch over a canyon a hundred-feet-deep. He doesn’t want to hold on anymore.

 

“Are you okay, Dean?” Sam interrupts them, breaking them from their trance.

 

He’s standing in the hallway and for all the love Castiel has for him, he wants to punch him in the face right now. It’s an impulse he never had before, but he’s beginning to understand that humans are anything but rational.

 

Dean seems relieved though, letting out a long sigh and shifting away almost brutally. Cas bites his lower lip and puts the cotton and disinfectant away as Dean stands. “Yeah, I’m fine, how are you?”

 

Sam appears uncomfortable; at least Castiel thinks he sounds like he is. He isn’t brave enough to turn around and witness it himself. He shifts from one foot to the other.

 

“I’m good, thanks. Bobby patched me up pretty good. It’ll take a few weeks for the wound to properly heal but I’ll be fine.”

 

“That’s… that’s good, Sammy.”

 

Castiel closes the cabinet door, being especially careful not to do so in silence to remind the brothers he’s still here. Not for long though, he can feel they are about to have some sort of moment, one probably involving hugging and awkward pats on the back.

 

“I am glad you are okay, Sam,” he says before heading out. “I think I will go back to bed now. Good night.”

 

“Night, Cas.”

 

“Cas,” Dean says. “Thank you for… well, you know.”

 

“It was my pleasure, Dean.”

 

When he falls asleep later that night, his dreams are filled with pink lips and impossibly green eyes. He wakes up drenched in sweat for the first time in weeks and with a very obvious problem between his legs. He groans and collapses back onto his pillows.

 

***

 

The day after that, Dean decides to teach Castiel how to shoot. He doesn’t tell the others though and leads his friend through the back door and to the junkyard. Once they are outside, he starts pulling empty bottles out of his bag.

 

“All right, so you said you wanted to come with us on our next hunt, right? So I figured you needed to learn how to shoot at least.”

 

Somehow, Dean felt it was a safer bet than teaching him how to fight one on one. After what happened in the bathroom the other day, he likes to avoid physical touch as often as possible. He doesn’t think Cas noticed at least.

 

Castiel did notice.

 

“That seems fine, Dean,” he says with a small twitch of his lips.

 

Dean misses it, busy aligning the bottles, completely unaware that Castiel did the exact same thing not two days before. Once everything is in place he leads Castiel away and takes the gun out of his belt. He unlocks it and gives Castiel a once over. “Are you sure you want to hunt with us, Cas?”

 

“Of course, I am. I want to help you, Dean. I want to be useful.”

 

Dean shifts a little. “But… you don’t have to. You don’t _have_ to be useful, you know that, right?”

 

And damn it, that’s something Dean never thought he’d say. Then again, there are a lot of things he didn’t think possible and yet, here he is. Castiel is looking away and when he catches Dean’s eyes again his cheeks are a little brighter than before. Dean pretends he neither notices it nor understands what it means. Instead he hands Castiel the gun and slowly positions himself behind him to check the angle of his hips, the way his shoulders are set. Castiel puts his finger against the trigger, being careful not to put any weight on it and raises his arm, taking aim.

 

Before Dean can think, he puts his hand between Cas’s shoulder blades to angle his body in a slightly different pose. His muscles are tense beneath his fingers and he lets out a puff of hair. “Relax,” he says, even though he knows he sure as hell isn’t capable to follow his own advice right now.

 

He can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt and he’s pretty sure it has nothing to do with the sun beating down on them. Dean swallows hard and inches impossibly closer to take a look over Cas’ shoulder. His arm is too loose and his fingers grip the handle of the gun too hard but Dean doesn’t want to have to fix that too. It could prove to be very embarrassing. He clears his throat and moves away. “All right,” he says. “Be careful with the recoil. Raise your shoulder a little bit and loosen your fingers.”

 

Cas nods and does his best to apply Dean’s advice. It isn’t much better but it’ll do, Dean thinks. He takes another step back. “Okay, now pull the trigger.”

 

Castiel’s lips stretch into a small smile and he corrects his postures almost as if by instinct. His arm doesn’t shake even the tiniest bit and he’s aim is near perfect. The first bottle explodes on his first try and the way Cas laughs is almost enough for Dean not to feel like he’s being made fun of. Almost.

 

***

 

“Listen, Dean,” Cas says as his friend pushes past him into the house. “You were the one who immediately assumed I didn’t have any skill.”

 

“Yeah, well, you could have told me!”

 

“Dean, I really think you are being unreasonable. I am a soldier of… I was a soldier of Heaven. I learned how to fight and even if guns were not our favored weapons, I did learn how to shoot.”

 

“How could I have known that?”

 

“You could have asked. You simply assumed I wouldn’t be able to help.”

 

Dean lets out a groan that’s loud enough to get Bobby’s attention. He looks up from his newspaper with a grin on his face. It’s almost scarier than his frown. “How many tries this time?”

 

“First one,” Castiel beams with pride.

 

“Atta boy.”

 

“What? So you knew too?”

 

“Where do you think he got the gun, genius?”

 

Dean growls and stomps upstairs to change before lunch and Castiel shakes his head, unable to stop smiling.

 

“Ah,” Bobby grunts before flicking his newspaper in front of his face. “He’ll get over it.”

 

“I know.”

 

***

 

Dean sort of avoids Cas after that, and no, he’s not hiding or anything. It’s not like he’s scared, it’s just easier to avoid a problem than to confront it, and Cas unearths questions and thoughts Dean thought buried for good. So yes, he’s taking the easy way out, sue him.

 

He thinks he’s being pretty subtle about it too. Cas doesn’t act any different, he probably just thinks they don’t happen to be alone anymore. Dean thinks he catches him on the verge of calling out his name, but then Cas stop himself and Dean just walks away.

 

It’s weird not talking to Cas as much, but that doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t keep an eye on him, at least from afar. He just wants to make sure he’s not collapsing or anything, but as far as he can tell, Cas is doing fine. He tries not to think about what that means, that Cas does just as well with or without him. It would be pretty fucking selfish to wish the guy would just crumble, but still, a little part of him expected to see a change. Who said Dean was selfless all the time?

 

The thing is, Dean doesn’t feel any different either. He thought getting a little distance would help, but it isn’t working and he finds himself looking over at Castiel more often than not. He always takes extra care that his friend doesn’t catch him staring, but he’s pretty sure Sam noticed. Of course _he_ would.

 

Dean is laid out on the couch, his eyes fixed on the tv and Sam is properly sat on a chair. They stayed there in silence all morning even if Dean can tell Sam wants to say something. He always wants to _talk_ but Dean isn’t in the mood and he makes a point of dodging those conversations as often as possible. It seems to be working so far. Sam is about to speak and Dean’s already thinking of a way to shut him up when Castiel comes in. Dean is grateful for the interruption, he’d actually rather have an awkward, stilted conversation with his friend than have to suffer through his brother’s lecture (which, if Dean is correct in his assumptions, is about those awkward, stilted conversations).

 

“Hi Cas,” Sam greets with a small smile.

 

Dean just nods and gets up from the couch, rubbing his hands off on his jeans.

 

“I wanted to talk to you.”

 

Well, frankly, Dean was expecting this and the idea of being alone with Cas is enough to make him uncomfortable already. But right now, he’ll take any opportunity to get away from Sammy. He’s spent the entire morning dodging his questions and he’s in no mood to start again.

 

“Sure.”

 

Cas swallows hard and rubs at the back of his neck, obviously uncomfortable himself. But before Dean can think it’ll make two of them, Cas speaks again, leaving him oddly wrong-footed.

 

“Actually,” he says, voice a little gruff. “I wanted to speak to Sam. I have something I need to discuss with him. In private.”

 

Sam’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and even Dean has to admit he’s a little taken aback. Usually, when Cas has a problem, Dean is the first person he comes to. And technically, he knows he should be relieved (eh, two birds with one stone, right?) but relief definitely isn’t on the list of the many things he feels right now.

 

“Oh,” is all he says for a while. His shoulders drop a little and he shrugs to cover it up, feigning nonchalance. He clears his throat, but when he looks at Cas, he can’t help but frown a little. “Okay then, I’ll… I’ll get out of your hair.”

 

He doesn’t dare steal a glance at his brother before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. He… He doesn’t know why Cas would want to talk to Sam. It’s just… He can’t make sense of it. Sure, Cas and Sam are friends and Dean doesn’t want to sound childish but he’s Cas’ _best_ friend. He just thought that if Castiel ever needed help with anything he’d come to him. Well looks like he was wrong. It’s no big deal.

 

Damn it. Dean leans against the door, careful not to make any noise. But he can only hear whispers in the other room and no words clear enough to make out. He curses under his breath and stomps away. He doesn’t care anyway. Not one bit. It’s probably boring; he’s got better things to do.

 

***

 

In the week that follows, Dean can say that Castiel has gone a bit weird. And he doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t try and talk to him anymore, in fact, he seems to be trying to avoid as much as Dean had the week prior. Dean doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like not understanding something, not when it comes to Cas. And especially not when he’s in such a fragile state of mind.

 

The weird thing is, Cas isn’t pretending Dean isn’t here. He’s oddly… attentive. He just doesn’t directly speak to him. One night, Dean got up to his room to find all his clothes freshly laundered and neatly folded on his bed. At first he’d assumed it was Sam and had asked him about it. It wasn’t Sam. And while the image of Bobby doing his laundry is funny as hell, Dean doesn’t dare ask him. It can’t be Bobby and so, that leaves Cas.

 

He doesn’t question it, doesn’t even mention. He is very careful in dressing though, making sure to put on the clothes that Cas washed the next day, and it earns a small smile. That’s the end of it.

 

At least Dean thought it would be. Sam’s been nagging him for days, saying that they need to go shopping and Dean is cleverly hiding out in the junkyard one afternoon when he hears a car driving up to the house. When he gets up to see who it is, he finds Sam and Cas getting out, and for some reason, Cas insists on carrying the groceries inside.

 

And that doesn’t here. A few days later, Dean is in his room trying to take a nap when he hears an explosion downstairs. He can hear screaming. He jumps up and grabs his knife, gun and holy water before rushing down the stairs. The kitchen is a mess but nobody seems to be panicking. He looks up to see Cas looking sheepish, twisting his hands.

 

“I was trying to cook,” he says and Dean just stares at him.

 

It turns out he’d forgotten to pierce the sausages before putting them in the pan. One had exploded and he had panicked a bit, making a fuss. Sam is standing a little to the side, trying not to laugh but Castiel looks genuinely upset so Dean doesn’t add to the pile. He just shrugs and grabs a fork and before biting into the sausage. It’s undercooked and frankly disgusting.

 

“It’s good. Thanks, Cas.”

 

Cas looks so happy Dean forces himself to swallow. So don’t come saying he never did anything for Cas.

 

Sam is looking at him weird… weirder than usual. Dean sends him a glare and then promptly decides to just ignore him. Everything’s been so odd lately he doesn’t know what passes for normal around here anymore.

 

***

 

Dean honestly thought things couldn’t weirder around the house, but when Cas comes to him alone after dinner, he realizes just how wrong he’d been. They haven’t really talked in weeks now, and even though it was his idea, Dean is kind of regretting it. He doesn’t miss Cas exactly, he sees him every day, but he misses the side of him Castiel used to put on display when they really spoke. He doesn’t get to see it much these days. And when he does, it’s mostly because he’s eavesdropping on his conversations with Sam.

 

Cas seems to be getting more and more frustrated with something, probably the same thing he went to talk to Sam about, but Dean can’t for the life of him figure out what it is. And he can’t help but think that if Cas had come to him instead, the damn thing would be solved already. But Cas was always stubborn if nothing else and so Dean doesn’t expect him to just come up to him like that. He thinks he’s doing a good job of playing it cool though.

 

“Cas! Haven’t seen you in a while,” he says.

  
Castiel frowns a little but he gently shakes himself, as if trying to stay on topic. What the topic is, Dean’s got no clue, but he has a feeling he is about to find out.

 

“I am sorry we didn’t get many chances to speak, Dean,” he says extra slowly, as if weighing every word carefully. He looks like a man who thought something was a good idea and just now thinks better of it. Dean thinks he’s about to run out any second now, which is why he startles a little when Cas speaks again, voice more assured. “It is the reason I have come to talk to you.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Cas looks away and clears his throat. “I am trying to make my peace with my new condition, and part of it is doing what normal humans would do…”

 

Dean is pretty sure Castiel has never had as much trouble getting out a sentence before. He leans against the desk and crosses his arm over his chest, patiently waiting for the rest of it.

 

“Which is why, I have been wondering if… _if we could go out for a drink_.”

 

Castiel speaks so quickly now that Dean almost misses it, but when he finally gets what he was trying to say, he just laughs. Cas looks upset and Dean has no idea why. He stops laughing anyway.

 

“You… You didn’t have to ask, Cas. I mean, sure. I haven’t been out of the house in days, and I’m pretty sure even Sam is getting restless. It’ll do us all some good.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, actually. To tell you the truth, I think Sammy hasn’t had any action in _way_ too long. He needs it.”

 

“Action?”

 

Dean rubs the back of his neck, immediately uncomfortable broaching the subject. But hey, he’s only got himself to blame. “Yeah, action… you know? Like… well, _action_.”

 

“Oh, I see,” Cas says and Dean can actually see the dots connecting in his head.

 

Dean thought he’d be overjoyed, it was his idea after all, but if anything, Cas looks a little cast down and a bit… angry? Dean can’t be sure because Cas is quickly turning away from him.

 

“N- Nevermind, Dean, I…” he stutters. “I thought it was a good idea and I thought I could… Well, it wasn’t a good idea.”

 

He stumbles over almost each word and yet still finds the way to speak at the speed of light and he’s almost out the door before Dean can so much as think of a reply.

 

“Thank you and… and sorry.”

 

And then he’s gone, leaving Dean even more confused than before and boy, he didn’t think that was physically possible. What the hell was that?

 

***

 

Castiel immediately goes to find Sam, his head swirling with thoughts and impressions he can’t make sense of. He doesn’t understand. The list Sam made him is heavy in his pocket, mocking him. He did everything on it but Dean doesn’t seem to be getting the message. He must be doing something wrong. Maybe Sam has an answer for him; he genuinely hopes so because he is officially lost. Human interactions are much more complicated than anticipated.

 

***

 

A week later and Cas has a new plan drawn up. Sam helped him – well, he planned the whole thing really – and this time, he’s confident it is going to work. And if it doesn’t, well, there’s always the good old straightforward way. Cas just thinks it’ll be easier on the both of them if he goes easy, slowly. He doesn’t want to spook Dean and so he waits a few more days before putting his plan into action.

 

He waits until Dean is alone on the couch. Bobby and Sam are nowhere to be seen and Castiel takes a deep breath before coming to sit next to Dean. He usually is very careful to leave a few inches between them, to respect Dean’s need for personal space – something he understands much better since he’s human. This time though, keeping his distance would defeat the whole purpose. He waits until Dean is completely absorbed by the television and inches a little closer, not quite touching him but almost. Dean doesn’t so much as flinch.

 

Cas bites into his lower lip as he shifts a little closer still, gently pressing his leg against Dean. He can hear Dean’s breathing hitch and pretends to watch the television as Dean slowly turns to him. For a few excruciating moments, Cas thinks Dean is about to protest but he remains silent and finally turns back. He doesn’t move away and Cas takes the heat of his body pressed against his as a victory.

 

Step one: check.

 

Step two is supposed to be _touching Dean_ , and even if Cas doesn’t understand how it differs from step one, he trusts Sam to know these things better than he does. At first he tries to hold onto Dean’s wrist as they watch tv again, but Dean doesn’t like it and gives him an odd look. So then Cas tries to link their arms together in the middle of the supermarket. Dean gets so spooked that he leaves without buying anything and almost forgets Cas there. He bumps his elbow into Dean’s side but there’s no response and Cas doesn’t think it counts.

 

He’s starting to get frustrated when, one afternoon, he’s trying his hand at cooking again and Dean comes up behind him. He steals a glance at the pan over his shoulder, and in doing so, presses his palm flat against Castiel’s shoulder blades. He can feel the heat of his fingers beneath his shirt and yet, he has to suppress a shiver. He’s not sure he understands what happens exactly but when Dean finally walks away, he can still feel the print of his fingers as if he had branded them there. He wonders if Dean thinks the same about the handprint he left on him pulling him out of Hell.

 

He lets his meat burn on the stove. He didn’t touch Dean, not in the way he had planned, but Dean touched him and Castiel thinks it still counts.

 

Onto step three.

 

Step three is easy, at least Cas thinks so. He needs to make sure Dean knows he is available. It seems simple enough, if only because Cas assumes Dean knows already. But he makes a point to tell him anyway each time he is given the chance. When Dean asks if someone can help him with his tools as he works on his car, Castiel readily agrees. A few days later, Dean needs someone to go grocery shopping with him and Cas jumps at the occasion.

 

“I am free!” he says with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. At least he thinks so judging by the look the three boys give him.

 

Well, at least he made himself clear.

 

Things go on in much the same fashion for a week or so until Sam tells him that it wasn’t what he meant. Apparently, _available_ can also mean ready to date. Castiel blushes so hard that Sam directly moves onto the next step. Two out of three. It’s not so bad, Cas thinks.

 

Step four is making sure Dean notices him… physically. This is clearly the part of the plan Cas is the least comfortable with, but he thinks it might finally be time to put on the jeans the nice lady helped him pick all those months ago. They’re a little uncomfortable but Cas can bear it, for Dean’s sake. He walks into the living room one morning and Dean chokes on his toast, going bright red with embarrassment. Well, it might be the lack of oxygen but Castiel thinks it’s good enough. He gives Sam the thumbs-up and Sam bites his lip to contain a laugh.

 

Step five is a little harder. Cas is supposed to make Dean understand that he wants more than friendship. And Cas has no idea how to get there. He thought the whole point of these steps was to make Dean understand that, and he is a little lost. So he decides to take some time to figure it out.

 

After a few days, he is no closer to figuring it out so he is grateful for the distraction when Dean puts the whole bar idea back on the table. He broaches the subject at breakfast – very careful, Cas notices, not to look at him – and Sam is quick to agree. Bobby says he’ll stay in with as much grace as ever and Cas says he’ll come too. It seems like Dean has a problem with public displays of affection and it will give him an opportunity for another try. He will go slowly this time to make sure Dean doesn’t run out on them.

 

***

 

Ten minutes into their evening and Cas is already regretting having agreed to it. The three of them are seated in a booth, Cas and Dean side by side and Sam in front of them. At first, Cas had thought the night was going very smoothly, he had sat close to Dean, remembering step one of the plan. And Dean hadn’t seemed to mind. Even Sam had looked pleased with his handy work and Cas found himself smiling for no reason.

 

Now though, he has to force a simple twitch of his lips every time Dean so much as looks at him. Sam is frowning into his glass but Dean looks unperturbed, as if he wasn’t even aware of the discomfort his friend and brother found themselves in. The waitress comes around to their table again and it’s all Cas can do to keep his mouth shut.

 

Jealousy is a very foreign concept to him, or so it was until an hour ago. The problem is, their waitress is a very attractive woman, and Cas can tell Dean notices it. She keeps flashing smiles at him from the bar and Dean seems to encourage her. He flirts, and he smiles, and he jokes around. And Cas has never loved anything as he has Dean smiling and generally being happy, but tonight it’s more of a bittersweet kind of sensation. He finds that the feeling is completely different when he’s not the one making Dean smile. And it bothers him.

 

It’s selfish and immature and completely ridiculous. He remembers seeing Dean hitting on women before, but he can’t remember it bothering him this much. His emotions seem to have increased tenfold since he became human, and it’s getting much harder to keep them under control. He hates that.

 

“Everything okay here?” she says, making Cas cringe just with the sweetness in her voice.

 

“Well, things are looking much brighter now that you’re here.”

 

Dean’s tone is teasing, almost playful and it makes Cas sick to his stomach. Sam is looking at him with pity in his eyes and Castiel has to force himself to look away. He has a hard enough time not laying a claim to Dean right here, right now. He grabs his glass and swallows it in one gulp, attracting all eyes on him. He blinks and feels his cheeks heat up at the attention, so he looks away, missing the way Dean gulps at the sight.

 

Sam clears his throat, turning to the waitress with a gentle smile on his face. “Er, could you bring him a shot, please?”

 

She slowly nods. “Sure thing.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Even now that the waitress is gone and that Cas has got alcohol in his veins, it isn’t any easier to relax. He thinks about the first time he mentioned going out and thinks of just how quick Dean was to agree. He probably thought of some girl like this one, and Castiel starts to believe all his efforts were in vain. Sam obviously thought he had a shot but even Sam has to be wrong sometimes. And if tonight has proven anything, it’s that Dean is definitely not interested, at least, not in the way Cas wished he was.

 

Dean opens his mouth to ask what’s going on but Sam kicks him under the table, glaring at him. Castiel barely sees it, too focused on keeping his jealousy at bay to really pay attention to much. He doesn’t miss the way Dean gently bumps their shoulders together though, and he forces a small smile onto his lips.

 

“So,” Dean begins. “How are you finding the experience?”

 

“It’s not what I expected,” Cas says.

 

“Okay.”

 

Dean is looking at him weird but before he can say much else, the waitress is back, smile still firmly in place. Cas bites into his cheek and inches away from Dean, not too fast as to draw attention, but definitely enough for Dean to notice. He turns a small frown on Cas and his friend does his best to ignore it. If Dean is interested in this young woman, Cas thinks it’s only polite to leave him his space so she doesn’t get the wrong idea. Plus the plan is obviously a dead-end and Cas can’t see a reason to keep at it.

 

He’s not exactly giving up, he’s just… well, he’s taking a night off.

 

“Here’s your shot.”

 

Cas barely glances at her and has to bite his thanks out. It is very rude of him, but he can’t seem to be more than civil towards her. It’s unfair that she would incur his wrath so innocently, and Cas doesn’t like being unfair, but it’s difficult to see that right now. Dean is still sending him weird looks now and again and soon it’s just the three of them again.

 

“Well,” Sam says, breaking the silence. The tension is so thick you could cut through it with an angel blade. “I’ll be right back.”

 

He clears his throat again and rises from the table, heading for the bathroom. Cas almost wishes he could have stayed there. He’s always the first to look for opportunities to be alone with Dean, but tonight it’s more of an ordeal than anything else.

 

“Okay now that Sammy’s gone, will you tell me what the fuck is up with you?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Right,” Dean snorts, angling his body as to face Cas completely. “You’re naturally this prissy.”

 

Cas looks up to glare at him. “I thought human beings were entitled to be in a bad mood now and again?”

 

“Yeah, they are. But usually they have some sort of reason.”

 

“And what makes you think I don’t have one?” Cas snaps back, only now realizing how childish he is being. He looks down for a second and bites into his lip as he draws a deep breath.

 

He crosses his legs under the table and looks away. “I’m just… I feel a bit… odd, all right? I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to take it out on you, Dean.”

 

“Look, that’s okay,” Dean says after a little while. “It can’t be easy dealing with new feelings all the time.”

 

“It isn’t.”

 

They fall into silence after that, but Dean doesn’t seem very comfortable. Somehow, Castiel feels a bit better knowing he’s not the only one.

 

“Cas?”

 

Dean only gets a small grunt in response, but it seems to be enough.

 

“What did the waitress do to you?”

 

Castiel imperceptibly winces but he’s proud to say he doesn’t blush, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer than before.

 

“She did nothing, Dean.”

 

“All right,” Dean whispers, voice a little hoarse.

 

For ten excruciating seconds, Cas wonders if Dean has figured it out yet. And then he does.

 

“Oh,” he says. “Right.”

 

He looks between Cas and the waitress now standing at the bar, flirting her way to a bigger tip with another customer. Cas can almost see the pieces falling into place and he looks away.

 

“I’m not… Cas, I’m… I mean I wasn’t,” he stutters before swearing aloud.

 

He doesn’t try to speak again and Cas thinks it might be for the best, because what Dean does next says more than words could. He looks away and slowly inches closer to Cas, pressing their thighs together and startling Cas enough to make him look up. Dean is blushing and rubbing at the back of his neck but Castiel thinks he probably isn’t looking much better. He worries his lower lip between his teeth, basking in the heat of Dean’s body against his before bumping his shoulder with his. He isn’t sure he reads the situation correctly but then he isn’t sure it matters much now. He doesn’t know what to say but then, maybe it’s better to stay silent. Words aren’t their strong suit anyway.

 

He looks up and is surprised to find Dean’s face so close to his own, their noses almost brushing against each other, their lips inches apart. He stops breathing, afraid that Dean might back away if Cas so much as shift against him. But Dean isn’t looking away either, his eyes grazing over Cas’ lips before coming back up. Cas feels his cheeks heat up in time with the rest of his body and he can’t help letting out a breath. It hits Dean cheek, forcing him to suppress a shiver but Cas can still feel it as if it were his own and he can’t help himself.

 

“Dean,” he breathes. “I… I think I should explain…”

 

Dean’s smile is slow-building and intimate in a way Cas had never felt before. “I think I get it.”

 

His movements are slow, almost painfully so, and he seems to hesitate with every inch as if waiting for Cas, for anyone to stop him. And this time, no one does. Dean kisses him, barely even presses his lips against Castiel’s and yet the angel feels as if someone just punched him square in the gut. His eyes droop close on instinct and he can actually taste Dean on his lips, feel the warmth of him, the smell of him. His nose press against Dean’s cheek and it hurts a little but he’s so far from caring he doesn’t even feel it. His whole body tenses up and relaxes at the same time and Cas thinks he can finally understand what his brothers meant when they were talking about human craving for touch.

 

Dean gently pulls away just an inch, and Cas breathes out against his lips, licking his own without even thinking about it. Dean shudders and closes his eyes again and Cas can’t help but smile when he tastes Dean on his lips. Dean brushes their noses together before pulling away for good, keeping their bodies pressed to one another.

 

“All right, then,” he says and Cas can’t contain a small laugh. The sound of it is glorious to Dean’s ears and he can’t help but join in.

 

They calm down somewhat after that even if Dean’s hand still lingers near Cas’ knee under the table. Castiel takes a deep breath and carefully avoids Dean’s eyes for fear of Sam returning. It almost works too.

 

He still doesn’t know exactly who or what pulled him out of Hell, and he certainly doesn’t know why. But he thinks that _if_ God did it, it might not have been to punish him after all. He’s not sure he cares either way.

 

When Sam does come back a few minutes later, he takes one look at them and collapses onto the bench before grabbing his glass.

 

“Fucking finally!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I sincerely hope you liked it. I'm French and so apologize if any sentences seemed a bit clumsy to you.
> 
> I'm not yet whoring myself out for feedback but... well, you get the gist.


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